


Airport

by Basingstoke



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-30
Updated: 2001-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke





	Airport

I'm in an airport, I can't remember which one...

Airport bathrooms are the most anonymous and least private place to be. Nobody knows you who are but everyone can hear you when you vomit.

Polite silence around me as I regret the Bloody Mary. How much of that is Mary and how much is blood?

One hand on the wall and one on my tickets, there in my breast pocket, clutched to my heart, sticking to a fresh wound bleeding through my shirt. A cigarette burn... Tyler rested his cigarette on my chest and neither of us realized that smell was my flesh. He licked the mark, said I tasted better with ash. Ground the ash in so I'll always have a mark.

I'm full of his marks. The bruises of my eyes, the grater-scuffs of my knuckles, the knobs of my broken ribs: these are Tyler's too.

One hand on the tile. Cold and clammy and thick with a feeling of unclean. I can feel the residue of a thousand thousand germs under my hand--it's sort of friendly. It shows that people have been there before.

One hand over my heart--tickets. Searching for Tyler--no, searching for fight clubs. Searching for Tyler's spoor, the little spit drops of his mind that form into Project Mayhem.

Tyler's spoor oozes down my chest. It'll scar like the kiss on my hand.

I miss him. Fuck me, but I miss him. I miss punching him, touching him, fucking him in the middle of the bloody, muddy post-fight club floor. I feel like I'm missing my fucking soul.

I found religion and its name is fight club. Now the pope is missing, and I'm going to find him, and I'm going to find out what he's been doing on the side.

I'm not listening to the man in the stall next to me as I flush. He's anonymous, so am I; I think it's all Mary and no blood. I don't know.

end.


End file.
